


Ghost of You

by korilove



Series: Let Her Go [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Still bad at tagging, don't hate me, it's not particularly happy yet, sciles are brothers kay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korilove/pseuds/korilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is in denial about Lydia's fate, and this is the fallout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> You can read this as a stand alone if you like, but you should at least read AWKIF, the first fic in this series. 
> 
> Music muse for this installment is The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance (including lyrics used and the title of the fic).  
> Beta'd by the lovely [huntersallisons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdaydreaming/pseuds/huntersallisons)! xoxo
> 
> *Warnings in the End Notes!!*

**You are never coming home, never coming home**

_This isn't real._

The tile floor of the hospital is cold, but Stiles barely feels it. Numbness has seemingly spread throughout his body, the only thing he feels is a slight fuzzy sensation under his skin. Apparently, his defense mechanism has finally kicked in.

He's sitting on the floor just outside the morgue, his head sitting in his blood-stained hands.  He hasn't moved from the spot since Melissa brought Lydia here.

_No. Not Lydia, Lydia's **body.**_

Stiles's hands start to shake a little more violently against his face as he tries to steady his breathing again. Trying to convince himself that he isn't dreaming is proving to be very difficult - it feels like any second he's going to wake up, gasping for air.

But nothing he does is working. Usually a panic attack or a death would wrangle him out of a painful nightmare, but both of those have happened. This nightmare isn't ending.

He goes over the details once again in his foggy mind, trying to make sense of it.

_Scott had pulled the jeep up to the warehouse's lane way just as Stiles had started to make his way towards the road - Lydia still clutched tightly in his arms._

_As the jeep came to an abrupt stop in front of him, Stiles had wrenched open the passenger door - with some difficulty, because he’s holding a dying Lydia in his arms for Christ’s sake - and clambered inside, never breaking contact with the bleeding girl._

_"Wha-" Scott started to ask, but Stiles was growing impatient with the lack of movement._

_"Just drive, I'll explain once she's okay." He says, breaking his gaze from the alpha to the paleness of Lydia’s face._

_There was no hesitation from Scott, he just put the jeep in gear and sped off towards Beacon Hills Memorial._

_When they arrived, Scott had parked in the back of the hospital - which was customary when one of the pack had gotten injured. That way there were no supernatural existences that needed to be explained._

_Melissa met them at the back entrance, her face white as a ghost when she saw the reason they'd come. "Stiles, put her here." She says stoically, pointing to a gurney._

_Stiles carefully laid Lydia down on the cot, a little reluctant to let go of her. He hadn't broken contact with her since he'd found her, and it felt like he was severing off a limb somehow._

_Melissa had then wheeled her into the closest room, calling for a couple of trusted nurses who were in the know, but didn't allow the boys to follow her._

_Scott looked distraught, he had slid down from his standing position to looking at the floor and was wringing his hands. Stiles started to pace, unable to keep still as Lydia's fate was so unknown._

_As he walked back and forth in the hallway, he created a track of Lydia's blood on the floor - which had seeped into his clothes and onto his skin underneath. To anyone who could have walked by the scene, it might have appeared that Stiles was the one who needed medical attention._

_After what seemed like way too long, the hospital door creaked open, and Melissa slipped through it. Scott and Stiles both snapped their eyes to her, waiting expectantly for news._

_Melissa slowly pressed her lips together, closing her eyes for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "I'm sorry."_

**At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies, she dies.**

_Stiles hears Scott choke out a sob before he feels the familiar choking sensation take over him. His vision blurs and his hands tremble uncontrollably -  Stiles gasps for breath as he dissolves into the floor._

_The panic attack hits him like a truck, his thoughts of holding Lydia and her last words play through his mind as if they are fragments. Her voice sounds through his head, soft and weak. “I love you.”_

_He vaguely processes that Scott has scampered over to him, trying to get Stiles to listen to him - to get him to hold his breath. What he focuses on though is the blood that is still on his hands. Lydia's blood._

_It's thick and starting to dry a bit, but because of his shaking the blood starts to drip off his fingers. It sends little red droplets flying on the brilliant white floor, creating a morbid painting._

_Out of nowhere, Stiles hears a roar - jolting him enough that he moves away from the noise. Finally catching his breath, he realizes Scott's Alpha howl just brought him out of the attack._

_"Stiles, I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do." Scott says, tentatively shuffling closer to his best friend - as if he's unsure how he'll react._

_Stiles just leans his head on his best friends shoulder, as tears finally spill over his eyelids. Strong arms squeeze him tightly and he returns the same pressure._

_Stiles doesn't know how long he and Scott stay that way - sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway, holding tightly onto each other and desperately trying to keep the other’s pieces together._

**And All the things that you never ever told me,**

Stiles is snapped out of his memories by a hand grasping his shoulder. He looks up to see the origin.

Malia - beautiful and blunt and honest Malia - is standing above him, a sad smile on her face. She looks sadder than the piercing blue of her true eyes - but it’s all under a layer of stoicness she’s learned is easy to fake.

She doesn't speak, but slides down the wall to sit beside him.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, but there is an understanding. He knows that no friend reacts quite this way to another’s death. Not that he and Lydia had ever gotten to be more than that, but he always felt something more for her.

“Malia-” Stiles’ voice sounds out, cracked and broken.

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Malia shakes her head and interrupts before he can try to explain to her why things can’t go back to how they were before. She places her hand on his knee and pats it before leaving it there, trying to reassure him.

They stay like that for what seems like hours, silently staring at steel doors that hold the banshee who, even in death, managed to drive them apart.

************************************************

As soon as Kira enters the hallway, Malia stands up and rushes over to her, hugging her tightly. The movement forces Stiles to look up again and take in his surroundings.

Scott is standing between Kira and Derek - who’s trying to comfort a silently crying Braeden. Liam is behind the group, looking down at the floor.

Malia and Kira haven’t let go of the other, silently rocking back and forth. Braeden is leaning against Derek, and whispering words Stiles can’t make out.

Liam ends up sitting on the other side of Stiles, while Scott sandwiches himself between his best friend and Kira. They all lean on each other, creating a small dog pile in the hallway.

But Stiles still feels incredibly numb - like it still isn't real. It can’t be real.

At that moment, Melissa emerges from the heavy metal doors and lets out a sigh. She wrings her hands as she speaks.

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of Lydia's dad, but John is going to talk to Natalie now.” She says, treading lightly when she says the banshee’s name.

No one from the pack moves, and Stiles just silently digests the information and lets it sink in. He’s never going to see her again. He’s never going to see her perfect smile, or the way her brow furrows when she’s onto something important. She’ll never graduate high school or college,  or win a field’s medal, never get married or have kids -

**And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me**

Without thinking or even realizing he’s done it, Stiles stands up. “Can I see her?” He directs the question to Melissa as he makes his way over to her.

“Stiles, honey I don’t think it’s a good idea..”

“Mom. _Please_.” Stiles pleads.

The hallway stays silent.

Stiles knows that he should feel guilty about using that word against her. He’s used it once before, albeit not on purpose. In many ways she is the mother he wishes he still had, and he hates the look on her face when she hears it.

Melissa gives a small nod at him, her face showing all the emotion she’s feeling. He can tell he’s pulled on a string calling her mom,  but he can’t think about that right now. He pushes the guilt down as she allows him to pass by her - through the metal doors, into the cold truth of the morgue, and the body it holds.

**At the end of the world, or the last thing I see..**

 

**Author's Note:**

> ** MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, Blood triggers, panic attacks*
> 
> How much do you hate me? Let me know here or on tumblr - [savingsciles](savingsciles.tumblr.com).


End file.
